


They call the wind Mariah

by Wyldkat



Series: Bring them Home [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 07:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19942285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyldkat/pseuds/Wyldkat
Summary: A dog, abandoned and lost, find shelter in an unusual place.





	They call the wind Mariah

**Author's Note:**

> One night I wasn’t feeling too good, unable to focus on reading for any length of time, I went trolling the net, just looking at pictures. I ran across a picture that snagged my attention. A drawing of a dog standing in the basement of a church staring up at something out of frame. This picture begged to tell me it’s story – or at least one of its stories.

They call the wind Mariah.

The sun was out but the wind was sharp, cutting through cloth and skin like a knife. The dog slowly limped down the stairs seeking shelter from the cold. The door at the bottom of the steps was open. Pushing her nose against the door, she opened it enough to go in.

The room was empty save for a few old chairs, bits of paper and the odd images humans always put on the walls. It reeked of urine, human and animal, and rat feces. She could hear the rats running along the wall. Once she might have chased them, right now she only wanted to rest away from the cold and wind.

The smell of humans was old, nearly gone, so she was safe here. Safe from kicks, rocks and slaps.

Nose to the floor she wandered the room, hoping that maybe the rats had left a few crumbs. Once, long ago, she had enough to eat. There had been humans, food, warmth and love. She almost remembered it.

Something moved in the dim shadows. It wasn’t a rat, it wasn’t another dog; she wasn’t sure what it was. It was human shaped, but didn’t smell like anything she knew. She lowered her tail and ears, backing up.

“Mariah.”

Her ears came up. The word stirred deep memories. Mariah. That’s what the humans called her. A boy. There had been a boy. A boy with a kind voice and gentle hands. The boy had loved her. She loved the boy. They played together, chasing balls and sticks, rolling in the dirt and laughing. Then one day the boy was gone. The big humans started shouting. They didn’t always remember her. She had to beg for her food and water. Finally, one of the big humans left. The other one took time to put food and water down, but did not play with her. She hoped that the boy would come back and play with her again.

One day the human put her in the car and took her away from her home. She was left at a different home, surrounded by different smells and strangers. This home had very small humans. These small humans pulled her tail, pinched her ears and yanked her fur. She knew they didn’t mean to hurt her, like puppies they didn’t know better. Soft growls didn’t stop them. Yelps to show her pain didn’t stop them. They only laughed. Deciding that more forceful action was needed, she grabbed hold of one after a painful ear tug and held the soft flesh. The small human jerked back, cutting itself on her teeth, and started crying. The big humans ran over, one slapped her and snatched up the small human. The other human beat her shoulders and head, pushing her outside.

She was banished outside. They gave her a small house that gave some protection from the wind and rain, but not from the cold. Food and water they gave her, but no love. The small humans would smack at her if she tried to get close. The big humans just shoved her away.

One day they didn’t latch the gate. She left, hoping to find the boy. But it had been too long, she was too far away. She didn’t know which way to go.

“It’s okay, Mariah.” The voice was gentle. Something she had not heard in a very long time.

She wandered the street, looking for home, always being chased away. Other dogs attacked her, humans shooed her away. Love, kindness, a gentle hand faded from her memory. In the summer she searched for protection from the sun and water, in the winter she sought shelter from the wind, always she was lonely and hungry. Once she had been in a building with images like the ones here. The humans there had given her food and water, but they would not let her stay inside. A storm had raged that night, soaking the food and the blanket they had put out. She huddled, shivering, next to the door, hoping that it would open. It never did.

She roamed, always looking, but she no longer remembered what she was looking for. Always hungry, she learned to tip over garbage cans. Humans yelled at her, chased her, and threw things at her. She learned to fear them as much, if not more than she did other dogs.

“Come, Mariah.” The voice tugged at her, bringing up fragmented memories.

Tail slowly wagging she stepped forward, head and ears down, watching for a sudden movement that would signal a slap.

The hand reached down and slowly rubbed her ears. “You are safe, Mariah.”

Safe. She hadn’t been safe since the boy had left. The caress felt good. She leaned into it, carving it, needing it as if it was water. The figure folded his legs and sat on the dusty floor. Mariah crept forward and laid her head on his leg.

“You’re a good dog, Mariah. You have been looking for Peter for a long time, haven’t you?”

Peter. That was the boy. The big humans called him Peter. She thumped her tail on the floor. Peter, yes, she had been looking for Peter.

“You are tired. Rest now. Peter will be with you when you awake.”

Mariah closed her eyes and leaned into the caress. Peter. Oh how she missed him.

The light in doorway faded as the sun set, but here she was safe from the wind, warm for the first time in ages.

A cold wind blew snow down the stairs into the forgotten basement. A pair of young boys sought shelter from the storm. It was too cold to play in the park; they had nowhere to go and nothing to do. They wandered in, one knocking over the abandon chairs, while the other picked up the dull ax and swung it at the battered cross that hung on the wall.

“Hey, what’s that?” The one knocking over chairs pointed to a dark shape at the front of the room.

His friend dropped the ax beside a broken bench and walked over. “Ah, man, it’s just a dog.” He started to kick at the still form.

“Don’t Johnny.” The other boy looked at the dog, lying beneath a picture of a bearded man surround by children and animals. She looked like she was peacefully sleeping. “Just leave her alone, okay.”

“You soft, Bobby?” Johnny started to kick at the dog again.

“No,” Bobby pulled at his friend’s arm, still looking at the faded picture. “Look at her, she’s just skin and bones, but she looks peaceful here.”

“Yeah, whatever, the bus is going to be here in a minute anyway.” Johnny gave one last shove at the still form and headed for the door.

Outside the wind blew, driving the snow inside. On the floor, the dog’s coat stirred in the soft breeze.


End file.
